He's Going To Be All Right
by Falcon Green
Summary: James Norrington finds himself back in the pigsty during his unemployment years and contemplates suicide. Lucky for him, there are good forces in Tortuga that are there to help him.


He's Gonna Be All Right: A One Shot Featuring Ex-Commodore Norrington During His Unemployment

Disclaimer: If I were very, very clever, and very, very, rich, I would own Norrington. But sadly, I'm only one of these and it's not rich. So, Disney, you can keep him, just be careful…(dramatic irony!)

I pitched headlong into the pigsty, helped by four strong, strong-smelling, drunken men. Problem being, of course, I was still lucid. Hadn't touched a drop. I just got a little out of hand and started a fight. Now look at me. My coat is covered in vomit (not mine), my wig is askew and frizzy (I'm leaving that thing somewhere) and my hat…what the hell did I do with my hat?

The mud was cool and scratchy against my cheek. I spat a bit of it out. "Great," I moaned to myself. I didn't know that after my resignation I would turn so quickly to lying face down in the mud. Pigs grunted amiably.

"Who's there?" called a voice with an accent from perhaps New England.

"Nobody!" I called back bitterly. There is probably no slob in the world unluckier than James Norrington. I've lost my love, my job, and the pirates, whose chase had become a hobby of mine, just tossed me into a pigsty.

"You don't particularly sound like "nobody," beggin' your pardon," the voice said, more softly now, for the owner had climbed into the sty with me. "Who're you? You don't look like you've been in this pigsty before."

Trying for a shred of rugged dignity, I croaked, "Jim Norrington."

"Norrington, eh? I think I remember that name, but I've had too many drinks in the last couple days to be very sure."

"So you're drunk."

"I wouldn't say that. I've sworn it off again, and have been sober for about…four hours."

"Congratulations," I said, mock humbly.

"Hah! Yeah! Jim Norrington! Scourge of Pirates an' all that! I can honestly say it's good to have ya here. Not so often we get folks here wot tried to be on the right side of life."

I can honestly say I was surprised. Welcome? In Tortuga? Are you serious? "Well, I'm not sure I've exactly chosen the right side of life. Would the right side of life have treated me like this? I've lost my girl, my job, and my home. In the space of a month or two," I moaned.

"Pretty damn miserable, eh?" the stranger replied. "I'm Bridey Wiles, by the way."

She didn't look like a "Bridey," or anything remotely female. Her face was grubby, her eyes were caked with gunk, and her brown hair hung low like seaweed around her pimply jaw. She was wearing torn pants and a black shirt that seemed to be more patches than anything else. No shoes. "I suppose it's good to meet you, then, Bridey."

I began to tell my story. She seemed excited by the fighting, and rather saddened by the romance bits of it. Time passed. I lit the lantern at the door using some flint that Bridey had given me, and my sword. Not the really good one. I gave that up when I resigned. I bought a new one, and it's not half as good. I digress. "Bridey," I confessed, "it's enough to make a man want to die."

"Well, Jim, if ya must, do it quietly. I've seen many people die in this pigsty, and you'll be just one more, although it's a bit of a shame."

"A shame?"

"Yeah. Right here, right now, you're legend. You do yourself in, now, in this pigsty, on the point of that rusty sword, you're going down without a fight. I wouldn't do that if I were you. Also, on a crud blade like that, it's going to hurt a bunch."

I contemplated that. Of course it would hurt, but so did living. Anyhow, going down without a fight, contrary to my outward wimpiness, is not my style at all. Call it a Turneresque notion, if you will. He's brave like that. Aside from common sense, I daresay he and I are quite alike. No wonder I lost Elizabeth to him. I dropped the sword.

"That's better, Jim. Sit down. That's it, right here next to me. The pig doesn't mind."

In fact, she was leaning back against a great, snoring sow. I did as she asked.

"You don't want to die, do ya', Jim. You want to stay the night in this pigsty and in the morning, you're going to make a new start of it. There's a whole world out there, and most of the people in it only know you from a few scrubby drawings in the newspaper. Get out there, be you, and live life better."

Her advice was sound; that I grant her. It was the next moment, however, that starting anew fell right out of the stars where it had been plotted. A boy in a tricorn with strangely high cheekbones and a quirky smile passed by the pigsty. He knew me. I could see it in his eyes, and he came over to me. Bridey hid in the corner.

"James Norrington." Shit. Elizabeth. I know that voice and that rather-silly-now-that-I-think-of-it posh accent. "What has the world done to you?" Then she left.

"Who was that?" Bridey asked.

"That's Elizabeth."

"Looked like an ugly, vomit sodden transvestite to me."

"You didn't see her back in Port Royal. She was beautiful, but it was that picaresque side of her that won me over. Lady and rogue, all in one."

"Cut that talk. She's well over you, so you say, and you should be moving on."

"I know," I whined, "but I'm not ready for that. I made a promise to protect her and now she's here, running around in bars and spending time with pirates, of all things."

"Fair enough. However, it seems as if she's in good hands, don't you think—she's managed so far to spend an evening in Tortuga without getting drunk, beaten, killed, or compromised, if you get my meaning."

"All the same…" I saw a very familiar red bandanna flit past the lantern. Oh. No. "I have to go," I said quickly. She smiled a half-smirk that made her almost look graceful. "But thanks, Bridey. I won't forget this."

I found this story in a book sent to me. Addressed to me. It was about a year after this encounter. "To Bridey Wiles of the Faithful Bride Pub, Tortuga." Fancy handwriting. Anyhow, it was in Jim's pocket when he died. Very sorry to hear it. Also, very sorry to hear that the vomit-sodden transvestite had a hand in it. Sometimes I wonder: Was it worth it to stop him from killing himself that night? Reading the rest of his book, I was bound and determined to find out. It took me a while, having had to seek out someone who could read. Rare as hen's teeth on Tortuga, but a fellow named Gibbs with monster-sized muttonchops seemed happy enough to tell me what it all said. It took me a month or so to get all the information out of it, mostly about battles and this jerk called Beckett, and about Will, Jack, and Elizabeth. There was one last letter, sealed and tied, slipped in the back cover of the book. Once again, addressed to one Bridey Wiles.

Dear Bridey,

I assume you're still well, and still tending the pigsties of Tortuga, and that I hope as well, for there are many you help by your duties. Anyhow, if you're reading this, I have passed on at sea. I went after a new life, like you told me, and I actually achieved my dream—I became a true hero. This evening, Elizabeth (your 'vomit-sodden transvestite) and a crew of pirates were captured. I intend to set them free later, because they're in the right and I must do well to follow the right side of life. I'm writing because I may not survive it. Of course it's not that difficult, but I have a really foreboding feeling. I'm also writing, because, since you are the last person I may ever contact, I want to get this truth across, I think I never felt so cared for as that night in the pigsty. You saved my life. Most people might not care if I died or lived. I owe you my life, and even though I'm sacrificing myself to save Elizabeth, in my heart it's really for you. I know, it's a bit forward, but if one's not a little bit forward, they'll spend life going backward. I'm off to fulfill my destiny, so wish me the best of luck, Bridey, and if I come home, I want to see you again.

Best wishes,

Jim Christopher Norrington

P.S. Enclosed is a half-crown and a hemp necklace, with a charm that I found in a treasure trove back on Isla de Muerta. Do what you like with the money. Heaven knows you need it. Don't worry about me. I'm going to be all right.

The End


End file.
